


MANEATER

by theladyscribe



Series: Hockey WIP Amnesty [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Bob (genre), F/M, Gen, Pittsburgh Penguins, Rule 63, WIP Amnesty, Washington Capitals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 06:02:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11983680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theladyscribe/pseuds/theladyscribe
Summary: She's the Russian Machine, and she can't afford to break.





	MANEATER

**Author's Note:**

> This is an incomplete story that has been sitting on my hard drive long enough that I know I'm not going to finish it. It is open for remixing, but I do have another piece set in this same universe that will be completed and posted separately.
> 
> Title is from the song by Nelly Furtado.

She's the Russian Machine, and she can't afford to break.

*

Sasha Ovechkina is ten years old when her brother dies from a bloodclot in his leg after a car crash.

She has a game the next day, and that night before she goes to sleep, her mother takes her aside and says, "I think you should still play tomorrow."

When she is older, Sasha will look back at that moment and wonder what it says about her that she simply nods and says, "Of course," like there isn't another option.

*

That moment is only one of many.

*

The worst fight Sasha ever has with her mother is just after she receives the invitation to play on the national team at World Juniors. She is sixteen, and she is, to her knowledge, the only girl on the team. This isn't unusual for her, but it's the first time her mother can't travel with her.

*

Sasha Ovechkina isn't the first woman drafted to the NHL, nor the first Russian woman to be drafted, but she is the first woman to be drafted number one and that means a lot. It means even more that she goes first and Zhenya goes second, because to beat a bunch of Canadians is one thing, but to beat her own countryman is something else. It's a big year for Russia, and a big year for women in the NHL (if the sports reporters are to be believed).

There are the requisite jokes about Mother Russia invading Washington, a couple of photo shoots with Sasha and Zhenya in their new jerseys, in the United States for the first time, and the expected but tired attempts to pit the two of them against each other. It doesn't work, because they've played with and against each other for years, and a new league isn't going to change the way they feel about each other.

And then the lockout happens.

Sasha goes home to play for Moscow again, because what else can she do.

*

Since she doesn't have an agent, the Washington Capitals front office calls her directly to tell her that the owners and the players' association have reached an agreement and camp for her rookie season will start in August. They make arrangements to send her contract to her mother's office at Dynamo and promise to help with travel arrangements once it's signed.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" her mother asks after they've read through the contract. It's thorough, stipulating all the expectations for the way women are to conduct themselves on top of the usual rules and regulations of an athletic contract. It's a stark contrast from the one she signed for Dynamo, which was no different than her teammates' contracts.

"Yes." For Sasha, despite the pains the NHL takes to make it _hard_ for women, there's never been any question. The NHL is the best hockey in the world, and there is nowhere she wants to be more.

"Very well," Tatiana says. "You will need someone to negotiate for you. This contract is stupid. They're trying to trick you, to get you to sign for less than you deserve because you are Russian and you are a woman. We'll find someone you can trust, Sanyushka."

Sasha leans into her mother, resting her head on her mama's shoulder. "I thought you might help me with that."

She can feel the smile against her forehead as Tatiana says, "Of course, [my dear]. These Americans won't know what hit them."

*

Sasha wastes no time in calling Zhenya as soon as she hears that he signed for another year with Metallurg. She doesn't get a chance to berate him for it.

"Don't," he says by way of greeting. "I've already heard it from everyone else, I don't need to hear it from you, too."

There's something in his voice that makes Sasha bite down on the chirp she was going to issue. "You want to talk about it?" she asks instead.

"No." It sounds sullen, so she doesn't push.

They're silent for a minute, the two of them just breathing across the line.

Finally, Zhenya says, "Tell me about America." There's a hitch to his voice, a wet rattle to his intake of breath that Sasha chooses not to notice.

"It's hot as balls in Washington," she says lightly. She tells him about house-hunting with her mother, the nonsensical road system in the city, the museums on the Mall, and the way the city lights up at night.

"It sounds nice," Zhenya says when she's run out of things to complain about.

"It's terrible, I love it," she quips back, which makes him laugh.

*

The American media pits her against Sidney Crosby before she even meets him. The first time they talk outside of an ice rink is actually on a conference call, though Sasha herself barely speaks. It's not that she has nothing to say, just that there's Crosby, and his agent, and at least one of the Penguins' coaches on the line, someone from Caps PR, and a translator in the room with her, and then there are the reporters asking questions, one right after the other. She knows English — understands it better than she speaks it, and she's not a bad speaker — but the cacophony of voices is overwhelming.

When they finally end the call, Sasha has a headache from trying to keep track of the conversation, and the PR guy has his lips in a pursed line. She's not one hundred percent on American social cues, but she knows that look can't mean anything good.

The press reports on the call are printed by the next morning. The headlines are all about this bullshit rivalry (more than one references some euphemism about Mars and Venus), and Crosby is quoted almost four times as often as Sasha across the major papers. She knows this because the PR guy — Jeff — tells her when he pulls her aside after practice.

"We're going to have to work on this, Sasha," he says. "You can't let them walk all over you. Give them an inch, and they'll take a mile."

She wants to huff and to shrug him off, but she knows he's right. Russia knows her as the flashy left winger who racks up points like no one else. If she wants even half that acclaim here, she's going to have to push harder.

So she starts boasting. The next time she has a recorder shoved in her face, she throws out a challenge. "I don't say which team will win, but I beat Crosby in points."

There's a little intake of breath from the entire room at her audacity, and the next morning, the headlines are about their rivalry heating up. Sasha is taken to task for the unapproved outburst by the front office, but she finds she doesn't care very much.

*

Sasha gets tapped for a _Cosmo Russia_ spread on the Olympics. She thinks it's going to be on all of the women in the NHL who are headed to Turin for Team Russia, but when she arrives at the studio for the photo shoot and interview she finds out that it's just her. It's a little surprising, but as with most things, she rolls with it.

The shoot seems to go smoothly, with a series of photos of her in uniform, both Caps and Russia, followed by a set of her doing a workout routine and a third group of her in fancy dress. The interviewer asks her about everything under the sun, from her life growing up to her draft to the rivalry with Crosby. While they're waiting for the crew to set up the workout set, they speak more casually, and Christine asks whether there are any men in her life.

Sasha laughs and says, "You mean besides the twenty-five guys I have to see every day?"

"Is that a no, then? No boyfriend for the best hockey player in the world?"

"No time for boys," Sasha says. "Too busy going for gold."

"You dated Evgeni Malkin for a while when you were in juniors, didn't you?" Christine asks. "You never got back together?"

There's a small prickle of unease that dances its way down Sasha's spine but she shrugs it off. People always ask about her relationship with Zhenya, like it's impossible the two of them could have dated and still be mostly friendly now.

"Zhenya and I are just friends." She cracks a grin. "When we're not playing against each other, of course."

"Of course." Christine smiles back, wolfishly this time. "I hear Malkin's well-endowed. Fact or fiction?"

Sasha snorts. This is the other thing people always want to know about her relationship with Zhenya. She shrugs again. "Can't remember, it's been too long. I see a lot of dicks in the locker room every day; they all start to look the same after a while, you know?"

It's more than a month later when she gets called into the front office before practice.

"You wanna explain this?" Jeff asks, handing her a magazine.

It's the most recent issue of _Cosmo_ , a photo of her in fancy dress grinning wildly at the camera. The headline reads, _I SEE A LOT OF DICKS: Sasha Ovechkina talks locker room shenanigans, romance, and the race for gold_.

Sasha isn't quite sure what to say. They're her words, sure, but they sound much worse out of context.

*

When she's standing at the podium accepting the Calder and basking in her spot at third in both goals and points in June, she finds Crosby in the crowd. He smiles and nods his head, clapping just as hard as everyone else. It's discomfiting, but she shakes it off, grinning so wide her face almost hurts.

*

The Capitals' front office asks her to be at the Draft via Jeff in the PR department, probably because they know she almost always says yes to Jeff. They also get him to ask her to announce their first pick for the year, which is how she meets Nicklas Backstrom under the too-bright lights and the scrutiny of too many people.

Backstrom is soft-spoken, his ice-blue eyes betraying no emotion as he shakes Sasha's hand. His palm is sweaty, so Sasha tries to give him a reassuring smile. He grimaces back at her.

Sasha makes her escape from the press of bodies as soon as permissible.

*

The press makes a lot of noise about Sasha and Sidney Crosby being on a line together at the All-Star Game. It's dumb, so Sasha makes a point to be obnoxiously nice to Sidney every chance she gets. It confuses the press and has the added bonus of annoying Crosby, who knows what she's doing but refuses to play along.

"Would you leave me alone?" he grumbles, sipping at a Coke while Sasha tries to play with his hair. They're at the opening banquet, and the tables are set up according to their lines. Everybody else at their table is studiously ignoring them, entirely too intent on the speeches given at the podium.

"Can't, Sid- _ney_ ," she sing-songs, emphasizing the second syllable of his name just to watch him flinch. "People are watching."

*

Even though they lose, the Eastern Division team still goes to a club Boucher and Turco told Staal about.

They get Sidney in by virtue of telling the bouncer that he's Sasha's boyfriend. It's hard to tell if the guy really believes them, but he lets Crosby in anyway. The bartenders steadfastly refuse to serve him beer, though, and it quickly becomes clear that he's bored out of his mind.

Sidney finishes off his second Shirley Temple and says, "I'm going back to the hotel."

Sasha looks around the bar, at the rest of the team well on their way to wasted, and decides, "I go, too."

"I don't need an escort," Sidney huffs.

"I do," Sasha says, smiling innocently. She links arms with him and waves at Lecavalier to let him know they're leaving.

*

She sleeps with Sid at the 2007 All-Star Game. It's sloppy and fumbling, remarkably uncoordinated for two professional athletes on the first line of an all-star team. Sasha is pretty sure Sid is a virgin, but he's enthusiastic and lets her tell him what to do and doesn't make her blow him. And he really does have good hands.

She wakes up cold in the middle of the night, turning to find that Sid is wrapped up in the comforter and snoring gently. Sasha rubs her face and starts looking for her clothes as quietly as she can manage.

She's still hunting for her panties when Sid shifts suddenly, mumbling something that sounds like "don't eat the cream cheese," before burying his face in his pillow.

Sasha casts about for her panties one last time but gives it up as a lost cause. She shrugs to no one; let Crosby keep them as a memento.

*

"Why do you?" Sid asks suddenly.

"Why do I what?"

"Why do — why are you so — why do you act out so much?"

Sasha is sure Sid doesn't mean it the way he says it, but it still hurts. She pulls herself out of his arms, moving to the other end of the couch.

"I mean," he amends, shifting toward her, "the press wouldn't come after you so hard if you kept your head down."

"Like you, Sid? Keep my head down so they can say how Sasha Ovechkina can't defend, how she should go back to Russia, be housewife? Fuck you, Sidney Crosby."

He sinks back down, shrinking away. "That's not what I meant either, Sasha. I meant — there are other ways of getting back at the press, other ways to tell everyone to go fuck themselves. You don't have to —"

"Maybe I _want_ to, Sid. You think that? Maybe it's the choice I make. Maybe I decide I am best, and I'm not afraid to say it. I'm not you."

Sid doesn't respond, and the awkward silence draws out between them, tension in the air so tight it's palpable.

Sasha grimaces, but she snaps first. "You know my mom, she's big name in Russia, yes? I grow up, it's always, 'Why you not like mom, Sasha? Why hockey? Why not basketball?'" She waves her hand. "Like this all the time. Only way to stop it —"

"Is to be even better?"

She glares at him. "Is to be louder than all others. Tell everyone I'm greatest, until they believe."

*

"That's the fucking game, Zhenya. That's how it works. You know that, so does Sid. I'm not pulling my punches just because it's you and Sid on the ice. If anything, I'm playing harder when I'm up against you."

Zhenya scowls. "You're killing him, you know that? Making him crazy, making him think you're friends or maybe you're more than friends, and then you do this, you play to hurt, and it's killing him."

"I never asked for this! I never asked for any of this! I didn't want to be somebody's rival, I didn't want to have a competition with a good Canadian boy for all the titles. I just wanted to play the best fucking hockey in the world. And in order to do that, I have to be the best person on the ice. I can't let you — I can't let _either_ of you show me up, I can't show any kind of weakness. Because the moment I do that, I've fucking lost _everything_."

*

[ending: 2007-2008 NHL awards: first/only player to win Rocket Richard, Art Ross, Hart, and Lester B. Pearson in a single season]


End file.
